


Feel Around till You Find Where Your Heart Went

by frapandfurious



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Angry Fluff, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood, Cannoli Kylux, Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M, Post-Battle of Starkiller Base
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-07
Updated: 2017-08-07
Packaged: 2018-12-12 11:44:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11736378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frapandfurious/pseuds/frapandfurious
Summary: Hux hadn’t realized, until he’d found his broken body in the snow, that he’d been putting as much faith in Ren as a weapon of the Order as he had in Starkiller.But Ren was just a man who bled and cried and thrashed on the cot Hux kept him pinned to as the shuttle carried them away from the crumbling planet. Who passed out with his head in Hux’s hands, blood and tears mingling as they made rivers down his cheeks. He was fragile flesh laid bare as he floated in the bacta tank, he was dark lashes over pale cheeks and downturned lips, he was fingers and toes, moles and crooked features.Something had stirred inside of Hux, then, watching him recover. Something raw and tremulous and unfamiliar, like a traveler from another world showing up on a planet on which they did not belong.





	Feel Around till You Find Where Your Heart Went

**Author's Note:**

> _Didn't I tell you you were gonna break down_  
>  Didn't I warn you, didn't I warn you  
> Better take it easy, try to find a way out  
> Better start believing in yourself 
> 
>  
> 
>  -[Pieces](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O11UikJigxo), Rob Thomas
> 
>    
> Art by the talented [comraderevelin](https://comraderevelin.tumblr.com/)!!
> 
>  
> 
> This was my first bang I've ever done and I'm so happy with how it all turned out, both the fic and the art. :) Some canon-verse cannoli H/C! I hope you enjoy!

Hux tried, again, to calm the frantic bouncing of his right leg, causing an irritating  _ taptaptap _ of his boot heel against the floor as he sat on the sofa in his quarters. Jitters brought on by nerves on top of too much caf and too little sleep. He took a shaky sip from his cup – the third that shift alone – and glanced yet again to the comm unit sitting on the table in front of him, awaiting a message that might come at any minute, or might not come for days, weeks.

The one informing him that Kylo Ren had finally returned from training.

He took a long breath in and out through his nose, ignoring the way it shuddered. He set the cup of caf down and forced his gaze away from the comm and back down to the datapad in his hand.

The datapad more or less kept him busy with a constant stream of work: requests needing approval, updates on resource reallocation, reconditioning statistics from Phasma as she painstakingly reevaluated all their troopers after  _ the incident _ with FN-2187. None of it fully distracted him from waiting with bated breath and a queasy feeling in his stomach. Though, perhaps  _ that _ was the result of going the past two cycles with barely a bite to eat.

He sighed and sat back, rubbing the fingers of one hand over his tired eyes. He was half-dressed, still in his boots and jodhpurs, but he had removed his uniform jacket, leaving only a standard black undershirt. His hair was unkempt; he was incredibly grateful no one had access to his rooms without permission. His shame was great enough without someone seeing him in such a state of dishevelment.

Hux saw how the officers looked at him now. The troopers all continued to salute him and go about their duties, expressions hidden in those anonymous white helmets. He glared blaster beams through every one of them, expecting another 2187, another betrayal. No amount of reassurances from Phasma could quell his distrust in the program he’d staked so much on.

But the officers had no such masks, and when he marched past them he could see the same thing on all their faces: the mix of resentment and fear. Resentment, that the weapon Hux, and consequently the rest of them, had spent years and so many resources building, had been destroyed in such a disastrous,  _ humiliating _ way.

Fear, at the fact that somehow he had retained his rank and was still, miraculously, in Snoke’s favor. Fear that it meant there was more to him than any of them knew or some secret, greater plan none of them were privy to.

Hux treasured that fear; he could  _ use it _ . It would keep them loyal, bide him time while he figured out what to do next to show Snoke his faith in him had not been misplaced.

_ Faith _ . He snorted at the concept. Ren had held so much faith in his beloved Force, in the so-called dark side, and look where that had gotten him.

Hux had had faith in his Stormtrooper program and his weapon and then he’d been let down by the former and lost the latter. The things he’d built, the results of his own abilities. Even his faith in those was shaken, now.

And another thing…. One other destroyed weapon occupied his thoughts.  Not Starkiller, but Ren himself. For all he scoffed at Ren’s mysticism, for all he loathed his smug demeanor and his disrespect for protocol, he’d known that Supreme Leader wouldn’t place such responsibility on just anyone. Hux had seen Ren’s abilities firsthand; he knew just how powerful Ren was.

Hux hadn’t realized, until he’d found his broken body in the snow, that he’d been putting as much faith in Ren as a weapon of the Order as he had in Starkiller.

But Ren was just a man who bled and cried and thrashed on the cot Hux kept him pinned to as the shuttle carried them away from the crumbling planet. Who passed out with his head in Hux’s hands, blood and tears mingling as they made rivers down his cheeks. He was fragile flesh laid bare as he floated in the bacta tank, he was dark lashes over pale cheeks and downturned lips, he was fingers and toes, moles and crooked features.

Something had stirred inside of Hux, then, watching him recover. Something raw and tremulous and unfamiliar, like a traveler from another world showing up on a planet on which they did not belong. But it settled in and it grew and grew, an invasive species, and before he knew it Hux was left with an uncomfortable, unwanted, but undeniable new truth: that he  _ cared for _ the aggressive, impulsive, powerful and wild Knight of Ren, his co-commander.

And then he’d watched him leave for Snoke’s citadel, weaponless and maskless, scars still fresh and pink, gaze distant. And it wasn’t like he thought it would be, like sending away a weapon for repair. It was like sending a bantha calf to slaughter.

And then he waited.

 

*

 

Nearly a month passed between Ren’s departure and the moment when, standing on the bridge, Hux received the comm informing him that Ren’s shuttle was coming in to land in the hangar.

Not requesting permission to land; informing him that it would be landing. Presuming that room had already been made for it.

_ Arrogant as ever _ , Hux thought, but the irritation was both halfhearted, losing the battle against the anticipation at seeing Ren again, and short lived, because he had, in fact, set a standing order that the space where Ren’s Upsilon docked was to be left unoccupied.

He forced himself to stay on the bridge for as long as possible until protocol demanded he make his way to the hangar to welcome Ren back to the Finalizer and exchange updates on each of their progress.

The man that stepped down from the shuttle ramp was both the same one Hux had watched leave and a new one entirely.

His stride was different, less stomping and more striding, but his ungloved hands were clenched in fists at his sides as if they contained the raw Force itself within them. His scarred face - still no helmet, perhaps there never would be again - still looked exactly as Hux remembered it (nearly every night in his dreams as he caught scattered hours of sleep) except for his eyes. For once they weren’t overflowing with every emotion, revealing far too much, but were instead blank, as controlled as the rest of him.

He wore simple black robes and a lightsaber hilt clipped to the belt; he must have crafted a new one during his training.

Ren’s gaze swept over the handful of waiting troops and officers until they landed on Hux. His face didn’t change, but he stopped momentarily, eyes locked with Hux’s.

“Ren,” Hux said finally, breaking the silence with one crisp word. He hoped Ren wasn’t reading his thoughts just then, sensing his relief. He liked to think he would have felt it were that the case, but then again, with Ren’s newly acquired skills, maybe he could slip in and out of minds undetected. The thought was chilling.

Ren nodded. “General.” He moved towards and then past Hux, dark and fluid, and Hux fell into step with him.  _ Just like old times _ , he thought wryly.

They took up the familiar path down the corridors. Hux filled Ren in on the progress the Order had made while Ren was uncharacteristically silent, not once coming back with a smart-ass retort or questioning one of Hux’s decisions. Hux could remember a time when this would have come as a relief to him; now, it was only unsettling.

When he finished, he expected some reciprocation. He supposed Ren wouldn’t divulge the details of his mystical training, but at least he could give some indication as to what the Supreme Leader wanted from them next.

Instead, as they reached an intersection between two corridors, Ren stopped and said, “I trust my quarters are as I left them?”

Hux stopped too and blinked at him. “Of course.”

Ren nodded. “Good. I will be leaving tomorrow, the Supreme Leader has a job for me. I will need to prepare.”

Their eyes met again. Hux had seen those eyes overflowing with tears and rage, that now-calm face scrunched up with pain. He couldn’t un-see it. So the way Ren looked at him just then, cold and impassive, made him seethe inside with frustration.

This new, controlled, confident Ren would be more efficient, more cooperative, less reckless and destructive. That was  _ good _ . That was the  _ point _ .

So why did it bother Hux so much?

Barely three cycles after his return, after not having seen him around the ship even once, Hux watched a small shuttle take off and dart into the black of space, carrying Ren and a small squad of troopers he had been assigned.

Hux hadn’t even been privy to the nature of the mission until after Ren left. It made his blood boil to be left out in such a way. He was the  _ fucking General _ , it was his shuttle Ren took, filled with his men and his supplies.

Even more so, he felt slighted by Ren’s sudden indifference toward him. Hux never dreamed he would  _ hope _ for the knight to stomp onto the bridge and demand his attention, yet there he was.

He hoped at least a successful mission on behalf of the Order, however small, would lift his mood and help him forget this nonsense regarding Ren. He had far more important things to do than fret over his co-commander.

 

*

 

_ So much for that, _ Hux thought bitterly, only days later, as he stormed down the hall on his way to question some Stormtroopers on what had gone wrong with the  _ failed _ mission.

It had only been a simple assignment-- tracking down a small band of Resistance sympathizers, taking any who might have information and eliminating the rest. How had it gone so terribly wrong?

The troopers saluted as he entered. Hux appraised them darkly, appreciating that they at least had the decency to seem frightened.

“You,” he said, pointing at the squad leader. “ _ What happened _ ?”

Before the trooper could answer, the doors to the room slid open. In strode an unmistakable suit of chrome armor.

“Sir,” the Captain said. “If I may. These soldiers aren’t responsible for the…mishap.”

“Oh?” Hux turned to her. “Then who is  _ responsible _ ?”

“Lord Ren, sir.”

Hux froze, trying not to let his surprise show.

That seemed…not impossible, but unlikely. Ren had just completed his training. Surely he was…infallible? Or close to it?

“He went in before the squad was ready,” Phasma continued. “There were far more of them than we calculated. He was caught off guard and outnumbered. By the time the squad got there, they were able to recover Lord Ren, but they were overwhelmed and…”

He’d stopped listening at one word.  _ Recover _ .

“Where is Ren now?” He interrupted. Or not. She may have stopped speaking, he had no idea.

“In medbay, sir.”

Hux breathed out slowly through his nose. It took every ounce of well-cultivated self-control he had not to turn immediately and head there. No, he would not run to Ren’s side. He liked to think that he had at least  _ some _ dignity left.

“Very well. Thank you, Captain. I’ll leave you to your troops.”

He clasped his hands behind his back and walked calmly from the room. He could feel Phasma’s masked gaze on his back as he entered the corridor and turned in the direction of the medbay.

Where Ren  _ wasn’t _ . The private room where he  _ should have been _ was completely wrecked, tables overturned, supplies strewn across the floor, the bedsheets stained with blood and bacta. In the middle of the room sat an unfortunate med droid, crushed beyond recognition, sparks flying from where one of its arms should have been. Said arm was on the other side of the room.

A clearly shaken nurse stood just inside the doorway, having entered moments before Hux. She stared at Hux, dazed for a moment, until she realized who she was looking at and quickly stood at attention, saluting.

“S-sir,” she said, “Lord Ren is- he, he left – “

Hux turned on her, sneering. “You  _ let him leave _ ?”

The nurse didn’t answer, but the look on her face said it plainly: no one  _ lets _ Kylo Ren do anything.

Hux took a slow breath. He wanted to reprimand the nurse, the whole kriffing medical team, for their incompetence, but considering who they were dealing with he almost couldn’t blame them. Besides, he had more important matters to attend to. He nodded curtly and left.

Ren was injured, volatile, more powerful than he’d ever been, and off roaming the ship somewhere, doing who knows what.

Hux was, first and foremost,  _ furious _ . This wasn’t supposed to happen anymore. Ren was supposed to come back  _ better than this _ . One with the Force, whatever that meant. But then, Hux supposed, he  _ didn’t _ know what it meant. Perhaps becoming stronger with the Force, for someone like Ren, meant becoming  _ more _ unhinged. The thought sent a shudder through him.

Underneath that, though, he felt a sick, churning anxiety, dangerously close to  _ concern _ . He didn’t know the extent of Ren’s injuries, nor did he know his current mental state, though from the glimpse at the medbay he could guess. What if Ren was bleeding out in some dark corner of the ship, alone? All Hux could picture was his tear-stained, blood-stained face after Starkiller, those dark eyes that revealed too much beginning to dull and flutter shut as he lost consciousness…

He had to find him.

Ren wasn’t in his quarters. Of course he knew it was the first place anyone would check. On a whim, Hux then checked his own quarters with no luck.

_ Stupid _ , he thought,  _ why would Ren go to you? _

It wasn’t as though Ren remembered Hux smoothing his sweat-soaked hair away from the gash on his face, snapping frantically at him to  _ just hold on a little longer _ .

Next he tried the audience chamber, in case Ren had gone there to report to Snoke. He was relieved to find it empty. At the same time, he was running out of places to look.

It was when a group of officers in standard issue fitness attire hurried down the hall, looking shaken and mumbling amongst themselves, that Hux knew almost without a doubt where he’d find Ren.

_ Just follow the trail of destruction and terrified subordinates _ , he thought wryly.

Sure enough, as he approached the gym and training area he heard loud  _ thwacks _ along with raw, enraged yells and grunts. Filled with a new wave of frustration, he followed the sounds to one of the smaller sparring rooms.

Through the large glass observation window which took up most of the wall he could see Ren, whose back was to him. He was stripped down to nothing but the snug black pants he wore under his robes; likely everything else had been removed by the droids and remained in the medbay.

Hux’s appreciation of the sight was short-lived. His eyes landed immediately on Ren’s torso, not just because he was somehow broader, somehow more muscular than before.  It seemed one aspect of his training  _ had _ , apparently, shown results. No, his eyes were drawn to where he was half-wrapped with bandages across his middle, blood seeping through as they unraveled and slipped down his sides.

The wound was along his ribs on his left side, just above where the only-recently-healed bowcaster wound had scarred. At this rate he’d have another alongside it if he didn’t get it treated with bacta soon.

Ren was hunched and panting, a training staff clutched in his hands. He took a deep breath and lunged at an unfortunate practice bag, swinging viciously. Loud smacks and his enraged yells filled the small room.

_ At least it’s not his lightsaber _ , Hux thought dryly. That must have been left behind in the medbay, too.

As Ren moved he pulled at the wound, loosening the bandages further. He stumbled more than once but didn’t stop. His skin shone with a layer of sweat and his hair dripped with it. Blood trickled down his side, disappearing into the black cloth of his pants.

Finally Ren ceased thrashing at the bag.  He stepped back, trembling, his panting loud and harsh in the silence.

Then a sound came from his throat that, before Starkiller, Hux never would have imagined hearing from the knight. A thick, choked sob. It was followed immediately by a frustrated growl. To Hux’s horror, Ren raised one fist up and began  _ pounding _ on the wound. More and more blood seeped from it, soaking the bandages. He grunted, sobbed again, this time it sounded as though through gritted teeth.

Any desire he’d had to berate Ren, to punish him, left in a rush as he watched. Ren was punishing  _ himself _ , and who knew what further punishment awaited him when he reported his failure to Snoke. The thought made Hux sick inside.

Hux’s feet carried him to the doorway before he knew what was happening.

“ _ Stop that! _ ” he snapped so suddenly that it actually startled Ren into obeying.

He gaped at Hux, his brow slowly pinching as he realized he was being watched and hadn’t even noticed-- that he hadn’t heard Hux approach.

With Ren now facing him Hux could better see the wound, or at least where some skin peeked out above the blood-soaked bandages. From the shape and size and the bruising that extended around it, he could tell it was a blaster wound. To his relief, aside from some scattered scratches and bruises, Ren seemed otherwise unharmed. But that one  _ needed _ to be treated, and soon.

Ren tried to glare, the threat of it muted by his trembling lips and watery eyes. His face was damp with tears and sweat.

“Get out,” he rasped, stumbling a little as he tried to turn and face Hux. He gripped the staff fiercely, but Hux didn’t back down. He doubted Ren would use it and if he did, Hux believed even he with his bare-minimum physical training could dodge an attack from Ren in his current condition. Ren’s Force powers were another matter, but he didn’t seem to be trying to use the Force at all. When he did, there was always an unmistakable energy in the air, making the hair on the back of Hux’s neck stand. But it wasn’t present now. They weren’t the Knight and the General but simply Ren and Hux, just two men staring each other down.

“No,” he replied. He regarded Ren calmly, unable to muster any of the distaste for him he once had. There was only pity, concern.

Ren scowled.

“Come to mock me for my failure, then?” He looked away, to the battered practice bag. Rather than his usual dark, condescending tone, he only sounded miserable, defeated.

“No.”

Ren’s gaze darted back to Hux, and then he swayed a little at the sudden movement, shutting his eyes and lifting his free hand to his head. Hux’s legs twitched, every part of him yearning to hurry over to support Ren. But he doubted that would be welcome, so he stayed put. He hoped he could at least convince him to lie down, if not to return to medbay.

“I’m here to – “ Hux began, then caught himself, swallowing around the words, his throat suddenly dry. To what? To check up on Ren? To make sure he was OK? Ren was a grown man, the Supreme Leader’s apprentice, Hux’s co-commander, a powerful Force-user. Reckless behavior or not, he didn’t need to be  _ checked up on _ . Besides, if he let on to Ren that he was worried, Ren would never let him live it down. Probably. A lot had changed after Starkiller.

“…to ask about the mission,” he finished, somewhat awkwardly. It was a feeble excuse, and they both knew it.

“I  _ failed _ ,” Ren snapped, dropping the staff with a loud  _ clack _ . “What more do you need to know?” He immediately brought the free hand to his head, digging fingers into his hair and gripping so hard it must have hurt. The other hand moved to slam his fist sharply into his side again. He gave a full-body shudder at the impact, knees wobbling. Hux flinched involuntarily along with him.

He had to do something  _ now _ . He couldn’t take it any longer.

“Ren, stop that,” he said again, almost desperate in his insistence. As if Ren had ever listened to him.

Ren’s fist raised up again, as though in deliberate opposition to Hux’s request. The movement was slow, though, and weak, and without thinking Hux took a few quick, long strides towards him. Before he knew it he was in front of Ren, inches from him, grabbing his bloodied fist before it could land another blow.

The moment their hands touched Ren’s eyes widened. Shocked, first, then indignant. As Ren’s eyes narrowed it occurred to Hux – too late – how foolish this was, putting himself in the line of fire.

But Ren didn’t seem interested in hurting Hux so much as he did in continuing to hurt himself. He gave his hand a halfhearted yank, but Hux kept a firm grip, his expression stern, belying none of his concern, or so he hoped.

“Why did you go in alone?” Hux kept his voice level, as far from scolding as he could manage. Perhaps it was unwise to ask so soon, but he had to know what the  _ kriff _ Ren had been thinking.

Fortunately for him, Ren didn’t lash out, though more tears built in his eyes and streamed down his cheeks. Hux resisted the overwhelming urge to wipe them away.

Ren seemed to be losing energy fast. Hopefully consciousness wouldn’t follow; Hux knew he wouldn’t be able to get Ren back to medbay on his own, and he hated the idea of subordinates seeing Ren like this almost as much as Ren would.

“Because I don’t  _ need them _ ,” Ren ground out. “I’m…my training is complete, the Supreme Leader said so. I’m supposed to be  _ strong enough _ .”

Hux resisted the urge to scoff, though barely.  _ What good is strength _ , he thought,  _ when you don’t have the strategy, the foresight to know what to do with it? _ It was beginning to occur to Hux, with sickening clarity, that Supreme Leader didn’t seem interested in teaching Ren control, balance, cooperation. Only  _ strength _ , no matter how damaged and unhinged it made him.

If only Ren would listen to Hux, would  _ strategize _ with him. Would utilize what Hux had to offer. And likewise, if Hux could get Ren to stop destroying himself and focus that burning energy outward, how strong might he become. How might Hux utilize that strength? How powerful could they be,  _ together _ …

Hux shook himself out of those thoughts. Ren looked about ready to bolt from the room; he had to focus on what needed to be done in that moment.

“It’s not about whether or not you were strong enough,” Hux said. “It was a mission, there was a  _ plan _ . When you stray from the plan…”

He stopped. This wasn’t what Ren needed right now. He was already punishing himself, he knew he’d fucked up, and if he didn’t, the Supreme Leader would undoubtedly make sure he knew.

No, what he needed was…

“Ren. Look at me.”

The words were softer than he’d intended, but maybe that was good.

It was at that moment that Ren’s legs finally gave out. He fell to his knees with a painful-sounding  _ thud _ . He slumped, head down, sweaty hair obscuring his scarred face. Either ignoring or not having heard Hux’s request.

Hux followed him, crouching on one knee in front of Ren.

“Look at me,” he repeated more firmly. Ren didn’t move.

Slowly, scarcely believing what he was doing, Hux removed his gloves and dropped them aside. He reached out cautiously and cupped Ren’s face between his palms. His cheeks were flushed and warm, damp with sweat and tears. Hux could feel the little tremors of grief, shame, and suppressed rage coursing through Ren. A pang of sympathy hit him, to think how Ren must feel just then. While he’d never resorted to such…visceral measures…Hux had never taken well to his own failures, especially when the stakes were so high. Perhaps he and Ren had more in common than they thought.

When Ren offered no resistance, Hux guided his face up to meet his eyes. He kept his expression firm, unyielding, but not cruel-- no trademark sneer.

“You  _ are _ strong Ren. The strongest man I’ve ever met. If you weren’t, do you think I would let you stand beside me as an equal?”

Ren blinked, his dark, damp eyelashes sticking to one another. Up close his eyes were so big, so deep. His trembling lips were swollen and pink as though he’d been biting them. Hux wondered how they would feel between his own lips, how it would feel for  _ him _ to be the one biting them, to soothe over the bites with his tongue…

Hux swallowed hard and tried not to lose his focus in favor of looking at Ren’s face.

“You help no one by destroying yourself,” he continued. “It won’t make you stronger. Just look at you. What if the Resistance were to attack, right this moment? You’d be in no shape to fight back, Force or no Force. You can be everything you’ve worked for, you can be  _ more _ . But not if you don’t work  _ with _ us, with…with me. And not if you break yourself down like this.”

It was possibly the most terrifying thing he’d ever done. Not training, not rising the ranks, not facing Supreme Leader, not watching the weapon he’d built crumble beneath his feet, but this. Opening up, offering  _ encouragement _ , not for his own sake or the sake of the Order, but for Ren. Putting another’s needs above his own.

But…it was working. Or at least Ren was listening, eyes wide, mouth turned into a little frown that was almost a pout. He began to catch his breath, his strained pants easing into little hiccupping breaths. His hand had dropped from his wound and hung loose at his side. He gazed up at Hux in disbelief ...and something else that Hux couldn’t name.

“Ren,” he said, softly, too softly. It was too much too soon. Fear thrummed in his veins, but he couldn’t go back now. If he couldn’t be rid of these inconvenient feelings, he would at least control them, put them to good use.

He curled his hands around Ren’s jaw, fingers slipping into his hair, thumbs brushing over his lips like they just couldn’t help it.

And then, before he could talk himself out of it, he pulled Ren in and pressed a firm kiss to his forehead. He lingered, eyes squeezed shut, for one long moment, as if time itself had frozen around them. He heard a soft gasp, felt new tears touch his fingers.

As soon as he pulled away he removed his hands, but quickly caught Ren’s chin in one hand before he could turn away, before  _ either of them _ could. He would take control, make this count, be strong for both of them until Ren was better; he would hope it wouldn’t blow up in his face like Starkiller had.

He held Ren’s chin and looked him right in the eye and Ren looked back.

“We will rise above this,” Hux said fiercely, with the passion of his speeches, but softly, too. “We will have our revenge, our _victory_. But _I_ _will not watch you destroy yourself for it_.” He took a steadying breath. “We can work together, Ren. I can _help you_ , if you’ll let me. Not because you’re not strong enough, not because you _need_ it, but because _imagine how strong we could be together_.”

[](http://s1036.photobucket.com/user/lizz_anne14/media/080717%20KMRB%201_zpscpkvg6n3.png.html)

The silence that followed was heavy, Ren’s suddenly expressionless face nearly unbearable. Then the air around him tingled, that familiar feeling of  _ power _ , and he felt a hesitant push of something within his mind.

“No,” Hux breathed. It was bad enough that he’d touched Ren, tried to comfort him,  _ kissed _ him, if only chastely. If Ren saw the full extent of the feeling that had grown in him these past weeks…

The pressure slipped away and Hux almost sighed with relief. That was, until the saw the realization dawn on Ren’s face and he knew: by keeping him out, he’d practically confirmed everything Ren was searching for, everything he didn’t want him to see.

He’d never felt so exposed. Would Ren mock him, use this against him? Reject him? He would manage, were that the case, he’d made it this far alone, he didn’t  _ need _ this. But it would make working with Ren, seeing him every day…difficult. Painful.

Ren still hadn’t said anything, and it was becoming increasingly awkward. Hux began to pull his hand away, mind swimming with regret, when Ren caught it in his own. Ren’s hand was large and warm, nearly enveloping Hux’s. There was blood on it but that was the least of his concerns.

Ren tilted his head, considering Hux. For once Hux got a glimpse of what it must be like to read another’s thoughts, as he watched Ren’s expressions shift from understanding to confusion to, to his great surprise, intrigue.

He felt his hand being guided back until his fingertips grazed Ren’s cheek. Hux followed through with the motion, cupping Ren’s face with one hand. Ren tipped his face into it, eyes shutting. Calm, now, and terrifyingly vulnerable, and…it wasn’t the rejection or mockery Hux had feared. It was  _ acceptance _ .

Hux brushed a thumb over his cheek, down his long nose to his lips, back to his cheek. The tears were drying now, leaving his skin so soft and warm.

“You were there,” Ren whispered, his voice low. He opened his eyes, gazing up at Hux. “After…”

He seemed unable to finish the thought aloud. Suddenly there was a little prickle at the back of Hux’s mind, a request for permission, a desire to show him something. He allowed it.

In his mind’s eye he saw and felt all of that terrible day, but from Ren’s point of view. Cold and broken in the snow, believing his time was up, only to see a flash of copper hair and piercing blue-green eyes, to hear Hux shouting over the wind. Then, later, in the shuttle, his head pillowed in Hux’s lap, trembling fingers pushing his hair back, Hux’s frantic voice telling him  _ hold on _ . Again, later, in the medbay, drifting in and out of consciousness, every time he woke his eyes catching on the familiar figure of Hux in the room, a lone, stoic figure. A point of familiarity through the haze of pain and confusion and grief. And then, before all that: Hux, by his side in front of Snoke. Hux, by his side walking down the halls of the Finalizer. Hux eye-to-eye with his mask, challenging him, not backing down. Capable, competent, unafraid. His co-commander.  _ His _ .

As the images receded, Hux didn’t know what to say, so he merely nodded. Ren regarded him a moment longer, then said, quietly, like a secret, “okay.” He began to tip towards Hux. Hux kept his hand on his face. Their foreheads pressed together. “Okay,” Ren said again.

Hux felt Ren let go, the tension leaving his body as he leaned into Hux,  _ relieved _ . Something viciously protective swelled through him and he knew he would do unspeakable things for this man. Through the lingering connection between their minds, a similar feeling answered from Ren. Something within both of them held fast to one another with no intention of letting go.

And then a single word, he wasn’t sure who thought it first. Wonderful and terrifying all at once.

_ Mine _ .

 

*

 

Kylo adjusts his pants, pulls his tunic over his head, steps into his boots. He dresses slowly, adding one layer after another, putting distance between the man who awoke in Hux’s bed, tangled in his sheets, and the one who has a job to do.

When the door slides open he doesn’t glance up, but his lips twitch into a smile as he feels Hux’s eyes on him. He suspects, from the appraising gaze, that he’s admiring his own work. The way Kylo’s cheeks have a healthy color to them, the slight padding to his muscular physique – the result of fewer skipped meals – filling out his already broad frame, the near-disappearance of the dark circles under his eyes.

The way he smiles more, laughs occasionally, carries himself with genuine confidence rather than a mimicry of it.

Kylo rises from zipping his boots and the little smile spreads into a full grin as Hux approaches. As he gets closer, Kylo notices he’s carrying something. He tilts his head, questioning, and Hux notices, of course he does. But rather than present the gift to him he first steps right up to Kylo, slides his fingers into his hair and pulls him in for a kiss.

Kylo hums and feels any tension left in him fade away. Hux’s touch, his warmth, have a calming effect on him like nothing he’s ever known, like no amount of meditation has ever been able to earn him. If he didn’t know any better he’d say it was the Force, but he’s touched every corner of Hux’s mind, stood on its mountains of triumph and settled into its valleys of insecurity, has learned the man as fully as one can learn another, inside and out, and hasn’t found a single trace of Force sensitivity. All his influence is by his own design, and to Kylo, that makes him unspeakably powerful.

That he chooses to use that power to lift Kylo up, help him to be stronger in every way, it’s…everything he never knew he needed. More than he could have ever hoped for.

And Kylo is  _ strong _ . Physically, yes, but also stronger with the Force than he has ever been, and more at peace. For once the light and dark in him flow together seamlessly, balanced. He never believed it was possible; he thought eradicating the light was the only solution. Until Hux found him fallen and offered his hand.

Hux didn’t have to train him, he didn’t have to control or punish him. He simply had to love him.

Hux kisses him, slow and steady, head tilted at the perfect angle, lips soft beneath his. The hand in his hair is tight enough to ground him but not enough to hurt. When Kylo’s hands move of their own volition to Hux’s waist, the feel of him is solid and warm and real.

Eventually their kisses, reluctantly, cease. Hux keeps his face close, his nose brushing Kylo’s flushed cheek, their mouths so close Kylo can taste the minty tang of Hux’s mouthwash on his breath. Kylo brings one hand up to cup his face and stroke away the worry lines he knows are forming on his forehead. They breathe together.

When Hux finally pulls away, he is already becoming the General once more, jaw set and posture flawless. His swollen lips and faint blush are his only tells, and only Kylo would notice those. One hand lingers on Kylo, palm flat against his chest.

Kylo nods to the bundle of black cloth in Hux’s other arm. “What did you bring me?”

 

“A gift.” Hux unfolds the thing, revealing it to be a new cloak, much finer than his old one. Hux gives him a moment to examine it before slipping it around his neck and shoulders. It’s thick, but not heavy, and undoubtedly Hux sees it as an added layer of protection. Kylo has yet to have a new helmet made after losing his last one on Starkiller, and for all Hux used to sneer at it, now he hates to watch Kylo go into battle without it.

[](http://s1036.photobucket.com/user/lizz_anne14/media/080717%20KMRB%202_zps6j6vceax.png.html)

Hux smooths Kylo’s hair down and then steps back to admire how it looks on him. His eyes meet Kylo’s.

“Bring me a victory.”

Kylo smiles. “Hmm. What do I get if I do?”

“Pride in knowing you did your duty to the Order.”

Kylo huffs, too amused to truly be irritated. “Is that all?” He leans in closer, teasing.

For a moment Hux looks about ready to pull him back in for another round, but his self-control wins out. Instead he brushes one more quick kiss onto the bridge of Kylo’s nose.

“You’ll come back to me,” he says firmly. It’s both an order and a plea. “With or without a victory,  _ you come back _ .”

Kylo remains smug. “What about my  _ duty to the Order _ ?” Hux’s eyes narrow, so subtly anyone but Kylo would miss it.

“I would do many things for you, Kylo, but I will not bury you.”

 

Kylo smooths one hand down Hux’s side, willing the tension in him to loosen. “Always so serious, General,” he teases, but it’s without bite. He leans in close to Hux’s ear. “You don’t have to worry. We’ve got this.”

 

Not  _ I _ but  _ we _ . Because he’s going in with Hux’s troops. Because Hux himself will remain on the shuttle and keep a close watch. Because Kylo will keep a narrow channel of their mental link open the whole time for him. They’re finally, blessedly, working together.

A grin spreads across Hux's face. “They don’t stand a chance.” Kylo’s mirroring grin is almost feral and Hux has to suppress a shudder.  _ Later _ . In spite of his teasing, he does, in fact, plan on rewarding Kylo when he returns victorious.

Hux’s comm beeps, signaling their arrival. Kylo steals one more kiss before they leave, earning him a halfhearted swat from Hux.

They’re arriving as backup to troopers who had been ambushed by a band of Resistance members. Reports are that the Resistance has started to gain the upper hand; they won’t have it for long.

The ramp from the shuttle lowers, the gray light from the planet outside streaming in, casting Kylo into an imposing silhouette, framed on either side by rows of Stormtroopers in their gleaming white armor. He doesn’t look back at Hux but Hux can feel him, a gentle nudge of Kylo’s mind against his.

The ramp settles and Kylo strides confidently into the battle, followed by the troopers. Just before he disappears from view, his saber blazes to life.

Hux takes his place on the bridge of the shuttle, overseeing the battle from the viewport. Kylo has already begun, taking out one attacker after another almost effortlessly. The troops flank him, firing their blasters, but they’re like children playing target practice compared to the onslaught of raw, controlled  _ power _ that is Kylo Ren at his strongest.

Barely two minutes have passed before the Resistance soldiers realize what they’re up against; some try to retreat but they are picked off one by one.

_ You told me this would be a battle _ . The deep voice fills Hux’s head as if the man himself were standing right beside him.  _ This is like cleaning up garbage _ .

Hux snorts.  _ Little did you know, I’ve been grooming you to be the galaxy’s most powerful janitor _ .

He feels more than hears Kylo’s answering laugh, a pleasant flutter at the back of his mind.

The last enemy standing fires their blaster at Kylo; it barely makes it halfway before Kylo’s hand shoots out, freezing the bolt midair. Everything seems frozen for a moment and then, with a flick of his wrist, Kylo sends the blaster bolt flying back at them, taking them out.

As the body crumples to the ground, Kylo turns and looks up to where he knows Hux stands at the viewport of the waiting shuttle. Ren’s triumph fills their connection, a copper-golden warmth, the same color he projects when he thinks of Hux. The two concepts, Hux and victory, are inseparable in Kylo’s mind.

Hux can’t see his grin over the distance but he knows it’s there. He grins, too, and knows that Kylo can sense it. Knows that Kylo is already thinking of how they will celebrate.

It is just one of many victories to come. They can see it, now, like coming in for a smooth landing: the two of them, standing side by side, the galaxy at their feet.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my wonderful artist for helping flesh out the details, for patience with me figuring this all out, and of course for her beautiful artwork. <3
> 
> Additional thanks to [gentleman-caller](http://gentleman-caller.tumblr.com/) for last minute beta-ing!


End file.
